


and the monsters turned out to be just trees

by wolfchester



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison dies, Gen, WHY DO I KEEP WRITING SAD THINGS??, everyone knows that already though, not shippy but there's still some allie/scott in there, this is so sad i almost cried while writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2599691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfchester/pseuds/wolfchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seventeen and all your dreams are knocking on your front door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the monsters turned out to be just trees

**Author's Note:**

> listen to 'cavalier' by james vincent mccmorrow if you want while reading this. it fits pretty well.

You are seventeen years old.

Seventeen: the golden age, where everything in your life starts slotting into place, but the puzzle’s still missing a few pieces.

Seventeen: when you’re realising that hey, it’s okay not to be okay sometimes, and it’s okay to be vulnerable with your ex-boyfriend’s best friend’s dad in a hospital elevator because you don’t have anyone else to turn to.

Seventeen: your mom is dead but your father is slowly digging himself out of the grave he buried his body in and you take comfort in that fact. You’re not quite at the stage where you can cry on his shoulder, but in the mornings he smiles at you when you’re making breakfast and that’s enough for now.

Seventeen: you’re thinking about travelling around the world next year after you graduate. You might bring your friends along or you might just go by yourself. Either way, you want an adventure outside the confines of Beacon Hills.

Seventeen: your best friend is a banshee and she screams as you die.

The sword pierces your skin like a hot knife through butter, and you’re surprised to find how painless it actually is.

Cold heat fills your body, and you remember thinking _“this isn’t happening, this can’t be happening”_ because you’re only seventeen years old and there was so much you had left to do god _damnit_.

And then you’re falling, falling, falling and Scott’s hands catch you but you still feel like you’re falling, you just haven’t hit the ground yet.

He wraps his hand around your arm, tries to heal you with his touch, and you want it to work so bad but you know it won’t. You know it won’t. You can feel your heartbeat slowing with every breath. _This is it, this is the end._

He’s crying and you’re crying but not like Scott, with his nose crinkled up and his mouth frowning, hot tears pouring down his cheeks like rivers of blood. Instead, your lips quiver a little bit, but there’s only two tear tracks cutting through the pale white of your skin.

(He said you were perfect once, and you still look perfect, even in death.)

He’s crying and you can’t stop him because you are his first love and you are dying in his arms. _“It’s okay, it’s okay,”_ you say. _“I’ll always love you.”_ And you can see the heartbreak in his eyes, on his face, his beautiful, _beautiful_ face.

He’s crying when you breath your last. There’s a flash of pain, then black, and you’re gone.

Seventeen.

(You were supposed to turn eighteen in February, but February never came.)

 

**end**


End file.
